Snobbery and Soft Spot
by PippinStrange
Summary: It's here...it's coming to YOUR town...that's right! It's a Pride and Prejudice spoof from humorous little me! Just let your...uh...concious be your guide...anyways. [Sponsered by viewers like you! I'm not responsible for any injuries or voice loss] R&R!
1. Mister Bingo is coming to town!

**Pride and Prejudice Spoof**

**By Pippin**

**Disclaimer: **This is not making fun of Jane Austen's book, just taking a well-loved story and providing some humorous insight. There are direct quotes from the book by Jane and not myself.

**Title: Snobbery & Soft Spot

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**Chapter One**

It's a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

A truth, that Mrs. Benedict is a firm believer therein, makes known to Mr. Benedict, neighbors of the single man of good fortune.

"My dear Mister Benedict," said his lady to him one-day, "Have you heard? Neverland Park is let at last! Do you not want to know who has taken it?"

"As you wish to tell me, my dear," replied he, "I'm afraid I have no choice in the matter."

Meanwhile, the two youngest of their daughters, Kit Kat and Lucky, waited outside the door, giggling as usual, one of their best accomplishments as only young ladies of silliest nature can boast. Married, (or Never Married, as called by the jokers in town, for she was a spinster in the making), stood by and watched them with disgust.

"I've told you not to listen at the door," called their older sister, Dianabeth, (whom everyone called Dizzy) observing their improper behaviour.

"He's single!" shrieked the younkers.

"Who is?" cried January, the eldest. (she was named January because she always getting rain in her life—figuratively, that is).

"A Mr. Bingo, apparently, recently moved to Neverland," Dianabeth explained to the eldest, (for January was the eldest, and the most beautiful).

"Good heavens, puppies," said Mr. Benedict, opening the door and finding every single one of his offspring crowded by the single keyhole.

"Oh, Mr. Benedict, how can you teaze me so?" shrieked the Mrs. "they are not puppies, their people, and sooner or later, children must grow up. Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?"

"I have the highest regard for nerves. We can't get very far without the nervous system. It's been my constant companion since I was born."

"Now come, have you visited him?" asked Mrs. Benedict.

"I have," said he, and fled the shrieks of happiness from those dreadful younkers.

"You would marry the man even if he had warts," laughed Dianabeth.

"Who's got warts?" Married paled and looked about.

"Everyone," said Mrs. Benedict. "Will he be at the ball to-night?"

"I believe so," Mr. Benedict called, feeling pleased at giving his household so much joy, that it echoed across the park grounds and was heard by anyone within the gardens.

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	2. The Dance Hall! Woot woot!

Hope you guys like it so far! It gets funnier!

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Chapter Two **

There was a dance a fortnight later, in which they were very excited to meet the Mr. Bingo. When they arrived, they were pleased with the sight of so gentlemanly a countenance, and he seemed very agreeable indeed.

"So that one is Mr. Bingo," Dianabeth mused while standing with her friend, Chocolate Lucas. "And the one with the quizzical brow?"

"That is his good friend, Mr. Dusty. And the woman is Mr. Bingo's sister, Caroling Bingo."

"Has she a fine accomplishment of caroling?"

"The very finest. And Mr. Dusty owns half of the Shire!"

"The short half," Dianabeth laughed. She was a good girl, of good spirit, who delighted in anything ridiculous.

Mr. Bingo immediately danced with January over and over again, a fine way to spend the evening.

"Come, Dust," said Bingo whilst Dianabeth and Chocolate stood nearby. "I cannot have you standing about in this stupid manner. I must have you dance!"

"You have seemed to have accommodated the prettiest girl in the room."

"She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld! By your leave, let my partner introduce you to her sister, a very agreeable kisser, I'm sure."

"Average," replied Dusty. "Not handsome enough to tempt me. Go back to your partner and enjoy her smiles. You are wasting your time with me."

Dianabeth felt the burn.

"Count your sheep, Dizzy," Chocolate comforted. "If he liked you, you'd have to speak with him!"

"I would not speak with him for all of the Shire, let alone the short half," Dianabeth laughed again, feeling the sting of the Mr. Dusty's words.

Later, they stood about in a circle, speaking of all matters light and dark. "My January has heard a pretty poem or two by well-meaning admirers," said Mrs. Benedict.

"And it killed the love stone dead," teased Dizzy.

"I thought poetry was a valuable nutrient of love," mused Dust.

"For a passing fancy it may, but for a fat love it has no ground."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Kissing, even if ones breath is barely tolerable," Dianabeth let that statement take its sting, then made a proper, dramatic exit, without getting run over by the dancers.

But then, all of a sudden, she tripped over her long ears, and fell. Hahahah!

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	3. January goes to Neverland

Hey you'all! hope you like it so,so..uh, so far again!

This one is not as funny. Forgive it. It gets better! Keep reading!

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Chapter Three**

January held felt much like January, until she met the infamous Mr. Bingo. Then she began to feel more like March. By nightfall, and discussing secrets with Dianabeth, she admitted she truly felt like June!

"Mr. Bingo is exactly as a man should be," she declared after the light has been put out and they could discuss what they thought of the dance.

"Rich," Dizzy said bluntly.

"Marriage should not be driven by money," insisted January. "Only a deep love could persuade me to marry."

"I will end up an old, decrepit unmarried woman with no life," added Dizzy laughing.

"Do really think he liked me, Dizzy?"

"He danced with you and stared at you for the rest and thought you were a good kisser. I give you permission to like the man, you've been stupider before. You know you are a great deal too apt to like people who are generals, you know. All the world is as good as pudding."

"I say what I think," January said haughtily. "But I do not like his friend. I still can't believe he slighted you."

"Mr. Dusty?" Dizzy thought his name seemed sour. "I could easily forgive the nincompoop if he hadn't wounded my vanity. But it doesn't matter. I've decided never to speak to him again!"

"Good for you!"

The next morning, Mrs. Benedict was making herself a very poor breakfast as Married pounded away on the pianoforte, causing the silver to rattle and the silver to cling.

"Married, please?" Mrs. Benedict drank some more wine—though everyone knew it wasn't exactly aiding her hangover acquired from the dance last night.

Dizzy yawned and felt dizzy with sleep.

Mrs. Benedict was currently giving Mr. Benedict a complete list of all whom Mr. Bingo had danced with—it continued for five minutes or so.

"If he had any compassion on me," said Mr. Benedict, "He should have been murdered by a madman with his riding crop and quill ink-pen before he arrived! His money has driven you all mad."

"When you die tomorrow, Mr. Benedict, our girls will have no roof over their heads and naught to take care of them."

"That is what you said yesterday. And last week."

Betsy arrived. "I've got a letter addressed to Miss January from Second Star to the Right, and Straight On Till Morning."

"Mr. Bingo!" cried January in surprise.

"Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!" cried Mrs. Benedict.

"It's from Caroling Bingo!" January blushed. "She's invited me to a barbeque. Her brother will not be there. Can I take the carriage?"

"WHAT?" shrieked Mrs. Benedict, a shriek that could have prompted Mr. Benedict to having nervous complaints. "Let me see it! A barbeque? How absurd! How improper!"

"Give the carriage to January," Dianabeth insisted.

"But it's a barbeque!" cried Mrs. Benedict. "Hardly cause for formalities! Take the pony."

"PONYBACK?" January felt more rain coming.

The thunder rumbled just at the right time. January jumped from the table and went out to the pony, mumbling and crying to herself. By the time she was ready to go, a rapid storm approached, and January felt herself sneezing and coughing in the very best January quality.

"She'll have to spend the night," Mrs. Benedict felt as plumb and happy as a chicken with extra feathers in a cozy barn. "Just as I'd hoped she would, and I do hope he up and marries her there and does not let her return."

"Your skills are positively occult," Mr. Benedict returned.

"I am not in a cult!"

"I did not say that!"

"You didn't say magic words for the rain to appear, either," Dizzy argued.

"I said pass the ammunition," offered the Mrs. Benedict.

Later that day, they received a letter from January.

_My friends, Bingo, Caroling, and Dusty are holding me hostage, saying it is unsafe for me to come home. There is nothing wrong with going outside, I have no clue what they fear. I should be perfectly safe coming home, there have not been bandits in years. I am feeling quite well, I only have a stuffy nose, a very sore throat, a massive migraine, a fiery fever, etc etc…I still wonder why they keep me here. _

_But I'm very happy here! Bye bye!_

"At least she will die happy…" said Mr. Benedict.

"People do not die from love," Mrs. Benedict contradicted.

"But she may die from an Anaconda," Dianabeth retorted. "I'm going to pay her a little visit and speak with her of this dreadful hostage situation."

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	4. Hammy the Pig and Tarzan

This is a little funnier. Keep reading! God bless!

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Chapter Four**

Dianabeth felt herself walking forlornly atop a green horizon, with a tree on the side nearly as lonely as her. She tripped, and fell, emerged covered in mud, and moved on. The peaceful moment was broken.

Meanwhile, Caroling was gossiping about someone doing something unfortunate in society's favor that persuaded her to feel grumpy on whatever subject she had been speaking of first.

"People can be very unpatriotic, you know," she told Dusty, trying to sound superior in the matter she had been discussing to herself.

The butler entered, bowed, and announced a visitor. "Miss Dianabeth Benedict, to see you, sir."

Dianabeth entered, feeling much like a frog, having sprung from the mud and arriving with her hair wild.

Dusty leapt to his feet, the chair scraping so harshly on the marble floor that it left scratches in it.

"Good Lor', Miss Dianabeth, did you scurry here?"

"I most certainly did," Dianabeth replied easily. "I'm sorry, where is my sister?"

"She's hiding, upstairs," Dusty said quickly, looking at unease.

"Um…okay…" Dianabeth curtseyed and left the room.

"Good grief did you see that dress?" Caroling blasted. "Absolutely covered with mud. She looked negatively Tarzanish."

Dusty could only stare after her.

Dianabeth found January properly snuggled up in an oversized bed, sneezing. "I feel terribly terrible because they are all being sooo nice," January gushed. "Achoo."

"I do not know who is happier that you are here," Dianabeth said kindly. "Mama or Mr. Bingo!"

Someone knocked on the door. January ducked beneath the covers, then peeked back out, and looked relieved. It was Mr. Bingo.

"Thanks for taking care of our dear January," Dianabeth said politely.

"It is most fun," Bingo said happily. "I mean, it's not fun that she is sick, of course, it's fun because she gets to be sick here." He paused. "Um…"

"Our pig is going to be famous!" Mr. Benedict said as they led Hammy into the stables.

"MR. BENEDICT!" shrieked Mrs. Benedict. "It's working! He's half in love already!"

"Really?" Mr. Benedict turned and looked at the pig. "He does not look like he is in love. Are you in love, old fellow?"

"Not the swine!" wailed Mrs. Benedict.

"Then who might be in love, blossom, if not the pig?"

"Bingo!"

"The farm dog?"

"MISTER BINGO. The Mister Bingo of Neverland. He doesn't even care that January has no pennies, and he has more than enough nickels for the two of them!"

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	5. Hankies and Terrible Discussions

**Hey, it getting funnier, right? ...Right? ...hello? -----crickets chirping---- ... uh, guys? **

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Chapter Five**

"Wait for me!" shrieked Mrs. Benedict, chasing the youngest of her younkers, following them to the Village to see the militia enter. They wore strapping uniforms and carried swords and guns, causing even some of the sensible people to scream and wave little white things fondly remembered as hankies.

"How shall I meet someone?" cried Kit Kat.

"You must, first, drop something important," instructed Lucky all-knowingly. "They pick it up for you, and then you are introduced!"

Kit Kat attempted to drop her shoe, but it stuck to her foot.

They began giggling of the largest nature, causing the militia to play little flutes and drums louder and louder to try and cover the noise. A few particularly handsome ol' peacocks strutted by. Lucky decided to try her luck and tossed a little white rag out among their feet. To stop in a public march would require fifty lashes, so not one of them even looked at the hanky. Some of them thought that a nearby enemy regiment was surrendering and looked about wildly. Either way, they trodded over the hanky, and covered it in dirt. Lucky was most disturbed at this turn of events.

"You write uncommonly like a greyhound, Dusty," Caroling attempted a compliment, one afternoon as she, Bingo, Dianabeth, and Dusty sat in the parlor passing the boredom with strange conversations or reading. Bingo contented himself with pulling apart one of Caroling's favorite pillows.

"You are mistaken, I write nothing of the sort," Dusty couldn't seem to find the connection between greyhounds and his writing. "I am writing about business to my sister."

"How odious," Caroling sighed in disgust. "Well, tell your sister I long to see her."

"I've told her about how long you are once, I don't think I shall do so again."

"I do feel like doting on her," Caroling declared. "I was in rapture about that little drawing of the furniture she did."

"Please, give me leave to defer the Rapture until I can write again!"

"You cannot defer the Rapture, it comes by the Good Lord's own time."

"I can try, Caroling, can't I?"

"I'm afraid you CANNOT try caroling, your voice just simply is not trained enough."

"YOU simply do not understand!" Dusty sputtered.

"You young ladies are soooooooo accomplished," offered Bingo, jerking away on one of the woven tassles.

"What DO you mean, Charcoal?" Caroling asked.

"See, see!" Dusty cried. "You don't understand things."

"You all paint tables, play the pianoforte, and pincushion things. I never heard of a young lady but people say she is an accomplice."

"That dreadful word is too liberal," offered Dusty. "I only know of a half-dozen!"

"Goodness," interjected Dizzy finally. "You must comprehend a great deal in the liberal word."

"I do," said he.

"She must know most of everything and half of arts and three fourths of what's important," explained Caroling. "And she must strut and float."

"And she must be able to read," added Dusty, grinning.

"I no longer wonder at you knowing half-dozen accomplices, I wonder at you knowing any!"

"Are you so severe on your own sex?" cried Dusty.

"I never saw such a person," agreed Dizzy. "She must be a most frightening, terrible thing to behold."

"Accomplices, or accomplished women?"

"I don't know! Which were you speaking of?"

"What about you?" Dusty wailed.

"Tee hee!" cried Bingo.

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	6. And even MORE terrible discussions!

Keep reading...please...! love to all! God Bless!

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Chapter Six**

"Come," Caroling said moments later, when a boring silence settled again. Her mind was hastily grinding to try and find something to do. "Dizzy, come walk around in circles with me." Dizzy looked first confused, then seasick, and they linked arms and began a slow spin about the parlor.

"It is so refreshing, isn't it, stirring up the air in the room after people staining it with such bad attitudes?" Caroling said.

"It is a small accomplice, I suppose," Dizzy smiled.

Dusty growled.

"Won't you join us, Dusty?" Caroling said.

"You can only have two motives, Caroling, and I wouldn't dare interrupt either."

"What can he possibly mean?" gasped Caroling

"She just doesn't understand…" mumbled Dusty.

"The only way to disappoint the old chap is if we fall to a vow of silence," Dizzy cried indignantly.

"Well, tell us all your secrets, anyways," Caroling prompted pompously. "What do you think our motives are?"

"Well," Dusty spluttered, his voice resuming in a higher falsetto. "You have lengthy, disgusting little secrets to discuss with each other in the typical female fashion, or you are conscious that your figures could bear the losing of this mornings brunch, and are attempting to exercise in a ghastly way by making us all sick from your constant circles, thinking your flattering beauty appear to the best advantage—by passing by our faces every other minute on another round." Dusty grinned sheepishly. "If the first, I'll be tripped underfoot and trampled to death because your secrets are so juicy you cannot stop for a eavesdropping pedestrian—if the second, I shall only lose weight that I'd prefer to keep to myself."

"TEE HEE!" Bingo giggled again.

"Shocking," shrieked Caroling. Bingo highly embarrassed her with that laugh of his. "How can we punish him?"

Dizzy assumed she was speaking of Dusty, though she was referring to her little brother. "We could laugh in return."

Caroling nodded. "At Bingo, yes. At Dusty, not a good idea."

"Are you too snobby, Mr. Dusty?" asked Dizzy. "Would you consider snobbery a fault or a virtue?"

"I plead the fifth."

"Because I think I've FINALLY found a fault in you!"

"Only because I find it hard to forgive the dollies and spices of others," Dusty spluttered, not taking care in how he worded the subject. "Or the offences against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost eternally."

Dizzy could understand forgiving offences, but she could not fathom the thought of forgiving dollies or spices. "Well, I suppose I cannot tease you about that!"

"No."

"It IS too bad," Dizzy smiled. "Because I do love to laugh."

"I think," sniped Caroling, "That is a family trait," she grinned evilly and snickered.

"Oh, Thank-you," cried Dizzy. In that rather tender moment, they decided they were friends. She hadn't expected such a compliment.

Together they walked in circles for hours—unfortunately, spilling no secrets or losing any calories.

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	7. The Horrible Allergy of Mr Dusty

Hey, your almost even with me! Then I will have to post quickly to heighten reviews! Keep goin'!

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Chapter Seven**

Caroling and Dusty sat down to another lengthy calorie gain one morning, when the butler came in, confused as usual, to announce something.

"A Mrs. Benedict, a Miss Benedict, and Miss Benedict…and… Miss Benedict."

"Good Heavens," stated Caroling, "Are we to receive every breakfast item in the country?" Dusty wondered which one of them had been cloned. Nearly all the oxygen was sucked from the parlor when the Benedict brood inhaled quickly at the sight of the fine, fine room.

"What an excellent room you have, sir," Mrs. Benedict gushed. "So expensive furniture! I hope you can stay here for a long, long time?"

"Absolutely," said Bingo comfortably. "I find the country very much like diving. Don't you agree, Dusty?"

"I find it perfectly like an aqua duct," said Dusty. "Even if society varies less…" he glanced suspiciously as the Benedicts, still wondering if they were clones.

"Less varied? Not at all!" Mrs. Benedict snipped haughtily. "We dine with numerous families of all _shapes and sizes_! Sir William Lucas, for instance, even if he is good deal less self-important than some people half his size—which even that is an undefined shape entirely."

"Is it true," asked Lucky, trying a little luck—again. "That you intend to hold a ball here?" It was the first time Bingo had heard such a rumor. "A BALL?"

"It'd be an excellent way to make the news and make friends—you could invite the militia, they are EXCELLENT partners…"

"ADORABLE!" interjected Kit Kat.

"Kitayna Ireyna Tatanya Kerenska Alisoff!" Dizzy scolded.

Kit Kat glared back. That was, of course, her full name, with her charming initials spelling 'Kitka', but she preferred Kit Kat because it was so much more distinguishing.

"When January is recovered," Bingo used her first name—most inappropriate for recent acquaintances. "You shall name the date!"

"Balls are very irrational," Married decided to put her two cents worth in. "They were be better for bouncing, rather than for making friends. It really should be the order for the day!"

"Less rational," agreed Caroling, "But balls are likable, don't you think?"

"Well, no, actually, that's why I said that!"

"Thank-you, Married," Dizzy interrupted.

In the meantime, January was getting better, and they prepared to leave.

"How can I ever thank-you?" January said tearfully.

"You can come over whenever you are sick!" Bingo said cheerfully. January made plans to catch a cold next week.

"Thank-you for your hospital ability," Dizzy told Caroling.

"Pleasure is all mine," Caroling added greedily. They curtseyed politely, and Dusty held out his hand to help Dizzy up into the carriage. She glanced at his hand with disgust, took it with the very tippy-tips of her fingers, and scrambled into the carriage. She stared after him curiously—he stretched his fingers as though they cramped uncomfortably.

"Good Lord," Dizzy thought in a stupor. "He is allergic to me!"

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	8. The Colon Salesman, or Half a Cousin?

**Please accept my humble thanks to your kind compliments! It was most generous of you to review this manuscript, for I cannot boast it is some fine accomplishment, but having heard it from an appreciative audience--and having prompted laughter from them--I am delighted to yet bring you another chapter. Please be so kind as to read and review once again, and until the next chapter, I shall trouble you no further and will chide myself for my foolish behaviour as to make a spoof of the greatest classic known! Until then, **

**I remain, obediantly yours,**

**(A very Janish Austenish feeling Pip as of right now)**

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Chapter Eight**

"I hope, my dear," said Mr. Benedict to his lady one-day, "That you have ordered a fine dinner—we have reason to expect an addition to our family party."

"The baby is not ready to sit and have dinner with us," Mrs. Benedict scolded, patting her round tummy.

"WHAT?"

"Who were YOU speaking of?"

"Our cousin!"

"Oh," Mrs. Benedict looked with disgust at her round tummy, which, unfortunately, she had no excuse for now. "No worries, then!"

Dianabeth decided to listen in, on this exchange, and then hastened to meet January and Chocolate for a shopping spree.

"His name is Mr. Colon," Dizzy explained to her friends whilst scurrying through town. "He is the most dreadful cousin!"

"He is our only cousin," said January in reply.

"He is to inherit all your things?" gasped Chocolate.

"Even my piano stool belongs to Mr. Colon," moaned Married, trailing them.

"Even my new dress pattern belongs to the colon," Dizzy added disdainfully.

Chocolate had a hard time figuring out why Mr. Colon would WANT a dress pattern, for he most likely would not wear the dress once he sewed it. It would hang in his closet and go to waste! For shame, for shame! "When?" Chocolate finally asked.

"He may take over the estate as soon as he pleases to," Dizzy explained.

That night, they were not at all surprised to hear a knock at the door! It sounded ominous and full of horror—echoing throughout. Mr. Benedict took tiny, baby steps to the door—he opened one of the doors, which was only about half the doorway.

"Good Lord! There's half a man on the porch!"

The ladies screamed—it was as they feared! A dreaded, mutated cousin from a horror book.

Mr. Benedict opened the other half-door. "Oh, I beg your pardon. Pay me no heed. He's quite tame looking."

There was a rush of wind as all six ladies breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mr. Colon, at your service!" the mutation spoke, his voice drab and dull, his countenance boring, undoubtedly agreeable to all those homely and thinking of spinsterdom.

"Oh, thank-you," said Mr. Benedict. "But no, we have no need for colons. We each have one you see, inside, and they are in good working order, for none of us have exactly dropped down dead, see. I thank you for your attempted service, if you were selling a new _nervous_ system, my wife may make a customer of you—but under the circumstances—"

"No, Mr. Colon, the cousin!" Mr. Colon protested.

"Oh, by all means, come inside out of the cold! What were you thinking, waiting all that time for an old man to catch up on the latest news? Hurry inside before you melt or something!"

Mr. Colon looked nervously about for some horrible weapon that could melt him.

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**I beg your pardon at its small measurment in length, but the length shall entirely depend on my leisure time at school, which varies because it is dependant on the ammount of homework I receive. Bear with me, and as usual, I beg you to read and review,**

**And I remain yours truly,**

**Pip**


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